


(you’re so) naive

by scenedenial



Category: Tiny Meat Gang (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Drinking, Drugs, Lots of internal monologue, M/M, POV switches between the two, Sexual Content, Slice of Life, ass eating, confused feelings, fluff mostly, kelsey and aleena don’t feature but I love them both TOO much, lotsa kissing, pretty much plotless, sleeping, soft, they just care about each other a lot :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenedenial/pseuds/scenedenial
Summary: It’s not as if they were, like, theplangoing in, but as Noel says at the bottom of his third Cerveza, it’s not all thatsurprisingeither.





	(you’re so) naive

**Author's Note:**

> THE USUAL RPF DISCLAIMER: I love and respect Cody and Noel. I love and respect Kelsey and Aleena. I don’t actually think the boys have this kind of relationship; they just have a fun dynamic that I like writing. Be cool and don’t send/whatever this to them please!
> 
> Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy :’)

It’s not as if they were, like, the _plan_ going in, but as Noel says at the bottom of his third Cerveza, it’s not all that _surprising_ either. 

Cody is laying on his back in grass that’s both too long and too damp to be rolling around in, feeling the chill of it seep into his shoulder blades. When he cranes his neck back, grass scratching at his cheeks in a way that’ll probably give him a rash tonight if he doesn’t pop a fucking Claritin or _something_ , he can see Noel on the patio with a beer in hand. 

Upside-down-Noel looks lean and tan. He’s smiling at something someone else said, the apples of his cheeks pink in the fading evening sunlight. _He’s too skinny_ , Cody thinks, not for the first or last time. All jabby elbows and hips that you can hold on to. 

Cody raises an arm in a half-hearted wave back at the dissipating patio crowd, is gratified as shit when Noel steps away from the grill and begins picking his way over to the lawn where Cody sprawls, heavy-limbed and hazy.

“Man, you are _whacked_ out right now.” Noel’s voice is like gravel, Cody notices. _Ha_. Like when the people who mow lawns come and hack away at them at 5 in the morning on Saturdays. Cody rolls to his stomach and laughs into the grass. 

“Jesus.” Noel says, drawing the word way out with a chuckle low in his voice. “The fuck did you do?” 

“He’s crossed.” Spock offers, helpfully, from across the yard. “Take him home before he pukes.”

Noel kneels next to Cody, still smiling in that way he does (all straight, white teeth), and gets a hand under his shoulder to roll him face-up. 

“There you go.” Noel pats Cody on the cheek, brushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead. He’s wearing a hoodie, one that’s too big in the arms and falls over his wrists, which Cody doesn’t _get_ because _he’s_ overheated as shit. “You wanna leave?”

Cody nods. He wants a fucking _burrito_. 

“Alright then.” Noel is too patient, Cody thinks sometimes. Like right now, as he hoists Cody up by the shoulders, holds him by the waist as they walk around to the car. The sky is the kind of blue that’s almost white, like it’s being washed out shade by shade. Cody looks for the pink lining the horizon in the distance, feels less off-balance when he sees it. 

Behind the house, as Noel fishes for the key in his pocket, Cody feels okay leaning over and kissing him all hard and messy, half missing his lips. Noel laughs into his mouth, tastes like Cerveza and pickles. 

Not the plan, but not surprising. 

—

Noel takes Cody back to the apartment, makes him down a glass of water along with the insisted-upon Claritin tablet. 

“You don’t even have allergies.” 

“I _might_.” Faded Cody is petulant Cody, which is irritating at the same time as it’s entertaining. “You don’t know.”

Noel knows it won’t get him anywhere to insist that, _actually_ , he does know, because he’s taken Cody to more doctors visits than he can count on two hands. It’s pointless to argue when he’s like this. 

“Are you tired?” Noel asks, because he learned a long time ago that the best way to circumnavigate these situations is to treat Cody like an overgrown, horny toddler (though that’s likely kind of a fucked up comparison to make). 

“No.” Cody blinks like he’s reacting in slow motion, sways a tiny bit where he stands on the checkered kitchen tile.

“Are you gonna throw up?”

“ _No._ ” Cody rolls his eyes, which is _bold_ , seeing as the last time he was this crossfaded ended with Noel pouring bleach into his bathtub. 

“Fine, just sit down, then.” Cody, occasionally obedient, sinks into the couch cushions and puffs his cheeks full of air. Noel turns away from him to smile at his fridge like a _fucking_ dumbass. Jesus. “You wanna watch a movie?” 

Cody concedes to that, so Noel picks the first thing that comes to mind (Pulp Fiction) and pulls it up on Netflix. Cody is asleep before the first bullet flies.

Once Noel himself is yawning—not even halfway through; he’s getting old, man—he coaxes Cody awake so they can pass out in the bedroom, where the street noise is quieter in the mornings and where they can pull the blackout curtains against the sunrise. 

Cody looks soft soft, like when a photograph is backlit and it throws the whole image out of focus, you know? His hair is a mess, falling over his forehead and ears in choppy little pieces of blonde, and Noel tucks it back because he can’t _not_. Cody blinks all slow and sleepy, and it’s really _all_ Noel can do to keep from putting a hand on the back of his neck and kissing him, as if they do that kind of shit wherever, whenever. 

(Though maybe they do, more than he’d like to admit, anyways. All of it, whatever _this_ is, feels so intrinsic that Noel doesn’t know where to question it and where to stop. It fucks with his head.)

“Let’s sleep.” Noel says, lets Cody pick his side of the bed. Noel lays awake for an hour, listening to Cody’s open-mouthed, vaguely asthmatic breathing and watching his shoulders rise and fall.

—

Morning comes too soon, and Cody wakes up with a sour mouth and Noel’s arm draped heavy across his lower back. 

He struggles to the bathroom, takes a piss with one hand braced on the wall, doesn’t throw up by some kind of miracle.

Noel’s apartment has _jack shit_ to eat, per usual, and Cody stands with the fridge open, staring into it bleakly until it beeps at him to close the doors. He’s headachey and nauseated, wants to wake Noel up to see if he’ll run down to the grocery store on the corner and get them coffees and greasy hangover sandwiches. But Noel doesn’t sleep enough, like, _ever_ , and Cody knows he won’t actually be able to stand over him and shake him out of bed. 

Back in the bedroom, Noel is dozing on his back with one hand thrown over his head. His jaw is stubbled with 5 o-clock shadow that Cody knows feels rough and shivery to the touch, and his lips are dry and slightly open. Cody watches him breathe from the doorway for a minute, then crosses the room to crawl back under the blankets beside him. 

The mattress is still warm and molded to his body, and when Cody shuffles unto Noel’s side, his arm comes down around his shoulders like a reflex. 

It’s good. It’s a good thing they have going.

—

Cody doesn’t _sleep_ enough, is the thing. Has like twelve alarms set on his phone that get him out of bed at the asscrack of dawn to go to, like, the gym. Noel sees the way his eyes droop in the evenings, the dark smudges of exhaustion that line them more or less constantly, and is always pushing back meetings, making sure not to call him before ten. 

So he doesn’t twist out from under Cody’s knocked-out body, even though his bladder is full and insistent, and the sun is cutting through the gap in the curtains, bright like it’s already midday. Noel’s phone is dead on the nightstand, black screen with the red drained-battery symbol flashing back at hum. He’ll plug it in later.

When they get up, he’ll run to the corner store. Coffees and sandwiches. Egg and sausage and sharp cheddar for Cody, the kind Noel would make for him if he didn’t burn everything he touched to a stovetop. Black iced coffee, because Cody’s on some weird _cutting out sugar_ kick, even though Noel thinks the slight softness at his gut is the loveliest thing in the world. 

Cody shifts and groans in the tangle of sheets. Noel blinks sleep out of his eyes and wonders at the inevitability of reaching this point. 

—

They don’t have sex enough for it to be, like, a _thing_ , but Cody knows where Noel keeps the condoms and lube (bottom drawer in the nightstand) and how his breathing changes before he comes. 

It isn’t put together, but it doesn’t need to be; they’ll be on the couch with Hulu on and then Noel will turn to him and Cody, some way or another, will end up on rug-burned knees as a Swiffer Jet commercial plays in the background. 

Cody likes it when Noel puts a hand in his hair, tugs a little. He tries not to choke, swallows as best as he can, relishes in the way that Noel hauls him up and licks cum off his chin. _God_. 

They don’t ignore it, exactly, but it’s an aspect that fades into the background easily enough. 

Cody rolls over; Noel is awake, heavy-lidded eyes crinkled into a smile at the edges. When they kiss, Cody shifts his hips and straddles Noel, pressing him back into the mattress. It’s easy. 

—

“Listen,” Cody says, breathless, “I know this isn’t the best _time_ , but I’m starving.” Noel could strangle him, he really could. Cody’s knees are hooked over his shoulders, their sweat mingling as Noel grips at his hips and runs the flat off his tongue over Cody’s perineum. Noel digs his nails into Cody’s flesh and pulls away to look up at him.

“Are you serious?” Cody half-shrugs, apologetic. 

“As a heart attack.” He places a palm over his stomach, winces to drive his point home. Noel huffs an exasperated laugh through his nose and drops Cody’s legs to the bed.

“You’re a fucking dumbass, you know that?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t have a single edible thing in this whole place!” 

“Jesus Christ.” Noel pushes off the bed and leans down to root for his t-shirt. “We’re making this quick.” 

“That’s what she—” Cody shuts upend laughs when Noel gives him the most scathing look he can muster. “I appreciate you.”

“Yeah, you better.” Noel’s voice is all fake-stern, but he’s smiling. “I’m buying you food _and_ eating your ass.” 

“Cause you _like_ it.” Noel rolls his eyes as Cody wriggles back into his boxers, still hard but apparently willing to put that off. He’s not wrong. 

Noel buys a sandwich for Cody and a tortilla wrap for himself, and they eat while speed-walking back to the apartment. Cody licks grease off his fingers and catches Noel’s eyes. Smiles all toothy.

God, he’s an idiot. Noel wouldn’t have it any other way. 

—

 _”Nghhhhh.”_ It’s a gross, embarrassing sound, but Cody can’t really bring himself to care. He hears Noel chuckle, muffled between Cody’s thighs. “Shut up.” Cody groans, pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes.

Noel presses Cody’s thighs further apart, making his back arch. He wishes he could see Noel’s face, but he’s too shaky to keep his head held up. He squeezes his eyes shut, shivers hard as Noel’s tongue stiffens up unbelievably. 

Noel’s mattress is slightly too soft, makes Cody’s back hurt sometimes when he sleeps in it, but now, with his head lolling back into it and his knees pressed up to his chest, it feels fucking _fantastic_. He’s breathing hard. 

“You like that?” Noel mutters, dropping his mouth to the inside of Cody’s thigh, to the base of his dick. _Jesus._

“Yeah.” It’s barely audible. Cody reaches down and pats at Noel’s cheek, hoping that lets him know everything he wants to say. Like, _this is incredible, you’re incredible, don’t stop, if you stop now I’ll lose it, please, you’re too good._

Noel has the _best_ fucking mouth, and Cody would tell him all about it if that topic of conversation didn’t make Noel go red and pretend to cover his ears. Cody keens underneath that mouth, loving it, loving _him_ in ways too complicated to consider.

—

Cody comes on his t-shirt, so Noel puts it in the washing machine and gives him one of his own to wear. It’s a tiny bit tight on Cody in the chest and arms, and Noel laughs and wraps a hand around his bicep.

“Swole.”

“Not even.” Cody says, smiling like he’s embarrassed. 

They’re the same height, and it makes it easy for Noel to lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“You want me to call you an Uber?” It’s almost too fucking soft, the way things are after moments like these. Noel wants to, like, fold Cody up in his sweatshirt and keep him there. 

“I mean...” Cody glances at the floor, then back up at Noel. “I don’t have anything going on today.”

“No?” Noel lets his hands rest on the cut of Cody’s hips. “Me neither.”

“Looks like it might rain anyways.” Cody quips, grinning. Noel looks past him into the clear ultramarine of the LA sky. 

“Yeah, yeah. Play it safe.”

It wasn’t their plan, but maybe it should have been.


End file.
